


your sword no longer

by imperialhare



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, mostly porn with some fraught feelings about your old boss and god yknow the deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:50:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperialhare/pseuds/imperialhare
Summary: Samot pays Tabard a surprise visit in Alcyon.





	your sword no longer

**Author's Note:**

> technically spoilers for SIH 24 and onward?? but it's mostly not important
> 
> thank you alix for coming up with the concept for this fic and brainstorming it with me!

Most days Tabard had a variety of guests who would come for dinner in the governor’s manor, and they would lounge in that cushioned room after eating and smoke and discuss law or philosophy or — whatever struck the fancy of the group, really — long into the night. That particular night, he took dinner elsewhere, and returned to the empty house with his books tucked under his arm, so that he could prepare for the next day’s discussions.

It took him only a moment to realize that someone had let themselves in — the lanterns were not lit but instead he could see from the front door that the smoking lounge was filled with a soft light, one that was intimately familiar to him. And upon that realization he felt, just for an instant, the obstinate desire to not go to the smoking lounge immediately, to keep _Samot_ waiting — because he was sure Samot was there, sprawled across the cushions, awaiting Tabard’s return so that he could — what? Ply him with honeyed words? Ask him for more than he could give without laying himself in terrible abasement, baring his chest for the boy-king to use as a shield?

But in the end, he was loyal, and his conflict lasted only a moment. He went.

.

Samot lay across the cushions just as Tabard had imagined, graceful as a wild beast, and dressed in lounge pants and a sheer silk robe. Unlike what Tabard had imagined, his hair had been cut short but without any particular artistry, like someone had hacked it off with a knife, and his torso and face were covered with strange, silvery-white and glowing marks. He lifted his gaze up toward Tabard just a fraction of an inch when he entered. How alien his eyes looked, with his irises pale and glowing like the scars on his skin. Like the stars in the sky.

“My lord,” Tabard said, but he did not kneel. 

Samot breathed out a cloud of smoke from the hookah. “Tabard,” he said, in a low murmur.

“What are you doing here?”

“Come, sit beside me.”

Tabard didn’t move. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

Samot cocked his head, perhaps, Tabard thought, because he hadn’t obeyed immediately. “I thought I would come see how you were doing, now that you’ve been out of my service for a few years now,” Samot replied. “I didn’t like your replacement quite as much.”

Tabard laughed. “You mean Hadrian?”

He thought that Samot looked embarrassed for just a moment, and found that he enjoyed, just a little, prodding at what he knew was one of Samot’s weaknesses. “No, not Hadrian. He’s still sending me mixed signals, if you can believe it. He hasn’t paid me any mind lately.”

“Is that so? I’m sorry.”

Samot shook his head and laughed to himself. “You’re only saying that to be polite.”

“Perhaps,” Tabard responded, and found himself smiling a little as well. Surely it couldn’t be so bad to humor Samot — after all, he had spent so many years doing far more than just humoring him. He sat down on the cushions next to Samot and picked up one of the hoses of the hookah for himself — felt acutely aware of the way that Samot watched him as he brought it up to his lips and took a deep inhale.

“What do you do, now?” Samot asked, after Tabard had breathed out a chestful of flavored smoke. The cartridge Samot had loaded tasted like grapes. What a predictable man his god was.

“I am the governor here.”

“Governor of Alcyon. You’ve done a fine job, then. This is a beautiful settlement.”

“Thank you. I’m very pleased with what we’ve accomplished.”

Samot smiled, let his head tilt to the side as he propped himself up on one elbow. “I would ask you if you ever missed serving me, but it seems both vain and foolish. Then again, I am a vain and foolish man.”

“I know.”

“Yes, you do. Perhaps better than anyone else currently alive.”

Was that true? Tabard had been Samot’s right hand man for ten years, had been by his lord’s side when Samot was under the public eye and conducting the City of First Light with effortless grace, and had also seen him return to his chambers at night to drink two bottles of wine by himself and plot petty vengeances. That was part of the contradiction that was Samot, that he was both compassionate and tyrannical in turns, that he was easy both to love and to resent, that he had given Tabard power and also made him feel utterly helpless. 

“You never treated me as well as you should have,” Tabard said, and was almost startled at his own confidence.

Samot regarded him for a long moment before he lowered his eyes and looked away. “You’re right.”

That admission was almost frustratingly easy. Tabard, seized by a sudden impulse, grabbed Samot’s shoulder and pushed him down, so that he was on his back on the cushioned floor. “My lord — Samot. I am not disloyal to you or to the gods—”

“I know,” Samot whispered. He did not attempt to resist.

“—I served you well and have I seen you complete great feats and demonstrate incredible kindness and brilliance both. But you used me and you used us. If you looked around Alcyon at all before coming to this room you must understand that.”

“I do. I do understand, now.”

Tabard’s grip tightened on Samot’s shoulders. “It’s that easy, then? To make you understand? Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. The gods have always understood what they were doing and chosen to do it anyway. That you create life and change the world is a matter of course, and you could never consider it with the amount of responsibility that even the newest pala-din does when we meet in the forums.”

“Maybe so.”

“I am a free man, Samot.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And I ask you again, why did you come here?”

“To see what kind of free man you had become,” Samot said, a smile blossoming across his elegant features. He raised a hand to caress Tabard’s cheek, like he had so many times in the past. Tabard caught his wrist before he could, and pinned his arm back down, feeling that he was strangely, impossibly short of breath.

Samot flexed his hand, but did not attempt to free himself. He was still smiling, watching Tabard with smug composure. “You’re in control here, governor,” he said, and Tabard could hear the unmistakable sultriness in his voice. “You can take what you want.”

Tabard wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, so he kissed Samot, and Samot let him.

*

Tabard had been in Samot’s bed before — when Samot desired a companion, and Tabard desired him, which was often enough. One such heated memory: Samot, his slender frame belied the strength of his body, toppling him onto the bed, pulling at his uniform and laughing, kissing him, biting at his neck, leaving him hardly any time to react — a wild and domineering lover who would hold him down by the shoulders and whisper filthy remarks into his ear, straddle his waist and ride him sharp and fast until he was satisfied.

Strange, to be the one who loomed over Samot now, pinning him to the floor of the smoking lounge. He knew Samot could free himself in a second if he so desired, that he was being humored by a wolf — that Samot’s submission came only because he enjoyed it and had deemed Tabard worthy of being in control where he never had been worthy before.

He straightened up, releasing Samot’s wrists, but Samot stayed lying on the floor where he was, watching him and waiting — for Tabard to give him a command? He studied Samot’s expression for a moment, his impossibly beautiful face. One slim silvery scar ran across Samot’s lips, which were parted slightly, revealing just a glimpse of his appealingly pink mouth. 

Tabard undid the front of his own pants, with quick determination, feeling that he couldn’t bear to go a second longer without doing _something_ to Samot. The prospect filled him with a sort of fear that turned instantly to a dizzy arousal. Samot watched hungrily as Tabard pulled out his semi-stiff cock and stroked himself hastily to a full erection.

“Suck,” Tabard said. He almost flagged in his conviction, could hardly believe this was happening — that _his_ fingers were pulling at what was left of Samot’s hair, pulling Samot’s face up to his cock, that he was pushing the wet head of it teasingly against Samot’s mouth and that Samot allowed it. He left a sticky streak of precum on his lips — Samot licked at it and licked at Tabard’s cock with an eagerness that was almost transfixing. Tabard thought he could look at the flush in Samot’s cheeks a long time, his shallow, excited breaths, but he also wanted Samot’s mouth around his cock so he grabbed Samot’s face by the chin and pushed himself inside.

God, he was warm and wet, a sensation Tabard had not experienced for a long time and hadn’t expected to miss. Pleasure shot up his body and he held back a groan, pressed himself further in, looked down to see Samot’s slightly unfocused gaze as Tabard fucked his mouth. Why was that so appealing? He wound a hand in Samot’s hair, listened for the small noise that Samot would make as he reached the back of his throat — the jolt of movement as Samot tried to swallow around him— 

Tabard held himself there for a long moment before he remembered that Samot needed to breathe and pulled himself out. Watching Samot gasp and pant for breath was satisfying in a way he did not care to examine further — but Samot composed himself he met Tabard’s gaze with a heated look that said he had not found it unappealing either. 

“Not afraid to be rough,” Samot murmured, voice husky. He wiped spit from his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled. “I like that.”

On the contrary, Tabard _was_ afraid, but that was only one of many emotions that had control of him now. Samot’s lips were a little pinker now, his perfect composure more breathless, the outline of his own erection was visible through the clinging fabric of his pants. To know that he had had this kind of effect on Samot…

“Take those off,” Tabard said, jerking his head to Samot’s clothes.

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Samot replied, and Tabard knew he was being condescended to somehow but hearing those words made his cock twitch anyway. Samot peeled himself out of his robe and pants easily, and stopped to take a vial of oil out of his pocket and drop it into Tabard’s palm before tossing his clothing aside and laying back down, arranging himself prettily for Tabard to look at.

So Tabard let himself look. His lord’s slender body, pale in the light of the moon. He was gorgeous, of course he was. “You look beautiful,” Tabard said, almost unable to help himself.

Samot regarded him with a challenging gaze and a smile that showed teeth. “So do you.”

Tabard uncorked the vial and poured some of the oil onto his hands before pushing Samot down again and rubbing it onto his body — Samot sighed when Tabard touched him, palms caressing his neck, dipping to his collarbone, his chest, his stomach — moaning as Tabard ran them up his thighs— 

Samot let out a sharp little cry as Tabard flipped him over suddenly, pulled his hips up and pushed his head down, sunk his fingers into the flesh of Samot’s ass hard enough to hurt. Samot hissed in pain but pushed into Tabard’s grip, shooting a look at him back over his shoulder. Tabard spat on him to get his entrance wet — just because he could, really, and hadn’t Samot given him that, saliva and sweat and cum to go with the magical skin that was laid over his stone body — rubbing it into Samot’s hole with fingers still slick from the oil. Samot groaned, his body jolted as Tabard pressed into him — could it be that he hadn’t been touched like this in a while? Tabard opened him up insistently on his fingers, fucked him on them rough and hard and savored the sound of how sweet Samot’s voice sounded as he did— 

“Fuck me,” Samot gasped, clutching one of the cushions to his face. “Tabard, give me your cock.”

“What?” Tabard asked, more out of disbelief than anything else.

“ _Fuck me,_ ” Samot growled, louder this time. Tabard didn’t have to be asked again. He poured more of the oil on both himself and Samot and pushed his cock inside. This time he couldn’t help moaning as he did — if Samot’s mouth had been warm then here he was hot and tight and slick, and he pulsed around Tabard’s cock in a way that felt unbelievably good.

“Samot,” Tabard gasped. He grabbed Samot by the shoulders and pulled him up, put one arm around Samot’s chest and held him against himself so that he could bite at Samot’s neck and shoulder as he thrust up into him, savoring the way Samot moaned and trembled in his arms.

“Fuck, your cock feels good — ah! Yes, Tabard—” Samot grabbed at Tabard’s chin and craned his neck to kiss him, sloppy and frantic, moaning into Tabard’s mouth every time he snapped his hips up — somehow this was still like the Samot of old, who would leave Tabard as breathless as being hit by a whirlwind. Just as beautiful and unrestrained, even when he was telling Tabard to _take what you want_...

Samot shuddered and came around him, shaking and gasping and scratching at Tabard’s arms as he did. Tabard fucked him through it — the way Samot spasmed around him felt obscenely good, he was barely able to consciously appreciate Samot’s pretty moans as he came close to orgasm himself, a sensation that made him feel like his head was filled with blood even though he had no blood to speak of. Samot’s body lolled forward when Tabard took his arm away, he moved his grip to Samot’s waist and thrust into him one last time before coming, hard, inside him.

They collapsed to the floor in an exhausted pile. Tabard listened to Samot panting to recover his breath as he slowly realized how difficult it would be to explain the mess they’d made of the room. It seemed that whatever the circumstance, Samot always clouded his better judgement.

“That was fun,” Samot said, idly, propping himself up on one elbow. Tabard met his gaze and Samot smiled, calm and self-satisfied again despite the mess of bruises that were blossoming around his neck and waist, his disheveled hair, the fact that no doubt Tabard’s cum was dripping out of him. Tabard thought the last image had a certain appeal, but didn’t ask to look.

“You should go,” Tabard said.

Samot raised his eyebrows. “So soon?”

“You can come back someday, but when you do, meet me as a man of the law instead of…” Tabard gestured vaguely. “Instead of like this.”

Samot laughed before he got up and gathered his clothes, dressing himself casually like nothing untoward had happened. “Very well. I look forward to hearing more of what you will accomplish here, my sword.”

“I am your sword no longer.”

“No,” Samot agreed. “You are a free man, and I have no interest in taking that away from you. But you are terribly hard to replace.” Samot paused before he left the room, as he was about to walk past Tabard. Gently, he turned and tugged Tabard down by the chin — Tabard let him — and gave him the briefest of kisses, barely a breath over the lips. And then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter @imperialhare! I don't put anything nsfw there but I AM friendly


End file.
